Mount Wuru of Songshan.
The Shaolin Temple was built in the 19th year of the Taihe era of the Northern Wei Dynasty, established by Emperor Xiaowen to accommodate the Indian monk Batuo. In the third year of the Xiaochang era of the Northern Wei Dynasty, the Indian monk Bodhidharma (Damo) arrived at Shaolin and meditated facing a wall for nine years at the shadowed cliff of Mount Wuru, initiating the Chan (Zen) tradition. During the early Tang Dynasty, in Li Shimin’s campaign against Wang Shichong, thirteen Staff Monks of Shaolin, including Zhijian and Tanzong, rendered outstanding service, earning the temple widespread fame and establishing Shaolin martial arts as renowned throughout the land. Since then, visitors to Shaolin could not help but feel drawn to its storied past, a sense of solemn reverence arising spontaneously.
Liu Yan and his two companions arrived at the foot of Mount Wuru, dismounting to proceed on foot. Liu Yan still covered his face with a black cloth, while Fang Pingzhai and Yu Tuan'er were unfamiliar faces. These days, the area outside Shaolin Temple was crowded with people, many of whom had peculiar appearances, so no one paid them any mind. Dongfang Xu followed behind the trio, all dressed in the attire of the Martial Arts World. They passed through the three gates of Shaolin Temple, where the young novice monks at the entrance did not stop them, instead clasping their hands in greeting. Crossing three courtyards, Dongfang Xu quickened his pace, leading the group into the largest Buddhist hall in Shaolin Temple—the Thousand Buddha Hall.
The Thousand Buddha Hall of Shaolin Temple enshrined Vairocana Buddha. Behind the statue, the northern, eastern, and western walls were adorned with grand murals depicting "Five Hundred Arhats Paying Homage to Vairocana," majestic in scale and solemn in divine presence. This hall was the grandest in Shaolin Temple, and at this moment, a space had been cleared in the center where an elderly monk in gray robes and straw sandals sat cross-legged, speaking slowly, "...Thus, in this old monk’s heart, faith can cross all streams, diligence can traverse the sea, perseverance can overcome suffering, and wisdom brings purity—all these together constitute the Buddha-heart."
Dongfang Xu craned his neck amidst the crowd. "That’s Dahui Chanshi. I wonder what he’s talking about." Yu Tuan'er looked curiously at the bald monks. "Why don’t they have any hair?" Fang Pingzhai also peered around and answered offhandedly, "Monks are busy—hair is troublesome... Which of them do you think could become the abbot?" He pointed to the figures seated at the front of the crowd—Da Shi, Da Cheng, Da Bao, Pu Zhu, and the young novice San Jie. Yu Tuan'er glanced and pointed at Puzhu Shangshi’s back. "Him." Fang Pingzhai laughed, waving his red fan. "Why?" Yu Tuan'er whispered, "Because he has hair." Fang Pingzhai coughed. "I have hair too." Yu Tuan'er frowned. "But you’re not a monk." She tugged at Liu Yan’s sleeve, pointing at Dahui Chanshi in the center. "What’s he saying?" Liu Yan shook his head. He did not believe in Buddhism and had no idea what Dahui was talking about. Fang Pingzhai flicked his red fan. "He’s recounting a story from the Agama Sutras, about a dialogue between the Buddha Shakyamuni and Indra. Indra asked the Buddha: 'How does one cross all streams? How does one cross the great ocean? How does one forsake suffering? How does one attain purity?' The Buddha replied: 'Faith can cross all streams, diligence can traverse the sea. Perseverance can overcome suffering, and wisdom brings purity...'" Yu Tuan'er cut him off. "I don’t understand what you’re saying either."Fang Pingzhai sighed, "I think—even if I explain it as clearly as possible, you still won't—" Yu Tuan'er glared at him, and Fang Pingzhai choked on his words, "Uh... actually, Indra asked the Buddha: How can one cross the river? How can one cross the ocean? How can one avoid suffering? How can one attain purity? The Buddha replied that faith can help one cross the river, restraint can help one cross the ocean, diligence and perseverance can distance one from suffering, and the wise can attain purity... Don’t you find this boring and meaningless? Isn’t this just saying that if you suffer, it’s because you’re not diligent enough, and if your heart isn’t pure, it’s because you lack wisdom... But do truly diligent people never feel pain? In fact, those whose hearts cannot attain purity are often burdened by too much wisdom..." Yu Tuan'er looked at him impatiently, "Anyway, I don’t understand what you’re saying. Stop talking." Fang Pingzhai was left speechless. His long-winded discourse had barely begun, but Yu Tuan'er turned away. Liu Yan whispered something to her, and suddenly she beamed with joy. Fang Pingzhai shook his head repeatedly, tapping his forehead with his red fan. The world was full of unrecognized talent, mismatched encounters, pearls cast before swine, jade mistaken for watermelons, gold taken for brass, and cold water poured on a heated kang—such was his plight! Alas! Helpless! Turning around, he noticed Dongfang Xu and his companions looking at him with admiration. Fang Pingzhai flicked his red fan dismissively, pretending not to see, and continued gazing ahead.
Dahui Chanshi had already finished speaking. The topic of discussion in the Thousand Buddha Hall was now "What is Buddha-heart?" The final speaker was Puzhu Shangshi. This series of lectures had lasted a full month and thirteen days, with most of the monks at Shaolin Temple participating. After Puzhu's concluding lecture, the temple elders would select four eminent monks to demonstrate their martial arts in the hall. If their Buddhist attainments were equally profound—since Shaolin was renowned for its martial arts—the one with the highest martial prowess among the four would be appointed as the abbot.
Puzhu Shangshi was strikingly handsome, with long black hair and dressed in black monastic robes, standing out conspicuously among the assembly of bald monks, young and old. As he rose, the Thousand Buddha Hall grew noticeably quieter. Puzhu stepped into the center of the open space and sat cross-legged. Unlike the elderly monks who spoke slowly with their eyes slightly closed, his cool gaze swept across the crowd. Those who met his eyes felt a jolt in their hearts and instinctively fell silent, no longer daring to speak nonsense. Though Puzhu was widely renowned, he did not adhere to the five precepts and had killed many. If he became the abbot of Shaolin, it would inevitably invite criticism. Thus, today’s final lecture was crucial—it was Puzhu’s opportunity to justify his unorthodox path.“Amitabha.” After Puzhu sat down, he uttered this phrase indifferently. The crowd exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of what to make of it. The Thousand Buddha Hall fell so silent one could hear a pin drop, as the assembly of monks, young and old, remained wordless. Yu Tuan’er, however, asked, “What’s this ‘Amitabha’?”
As soon as she spoke, all eyes turned to her, each wondering who this young woman was who dared to speak aloud at the Abbot Assembly in Shaolin Temple. Her boldness was certainly remarkable. Fang Pingzhai laughed heartily, waving his red fan. “His Buddha-heart is ‘Amitabha’—just a chant, nothing more. The Buddha is in his heart, needing no explanation. He is the Buddha, and the Buddha is him. Though he kills, it is the Buddha’s killing—not the slaying of men, but the vanquishing of demons.”
Though Fang Pingzhai did not raise his voice, his words carried clearly in the silence, sending a chill through the listeners. His tone was unmistakably provocative, signaling ill intent. Yu Tuan’er frowned, about to retort, when Puzhu Shangshi spoke coldly, “Life is not truly life, death is not truly death. All beings and things are thus. Men believe they live, but in the eyes of all existence, is it truly life? Men believe they die, but in the eyes of all existence, is it truly death? Life is not life—it is merely called so. Death is not death—it is merely called so.”
“Amitabha.” Upon hearing Puzhu Shangshi’s words—“Life is not life, it is merely called so. Death is not death, it is merely called so.”—the monks seated on the floor, young and old, pressed their palms together and chanted in unison. Whether in agreement or dissent, none could tell.
Fang Pingzhai shook his head repeatedly. “What utter nonsense! If life is not life and death is not death, if birth and demise hold no difference for all things under heaven, then tell me, Puzhu Heshang, what crime is there in killing? If anyone were to believe this fallacy of yours, not only would monks be guiltless in murder, but so would every single person in the world! Absolute rubbish! Preposterous!”
Normally verbose, this time Fang Pingzhai spoke with righteous conviction, his words ringing clear. The listeners couldn’t help but nod slightly. While transcending life and death may reflect broad-mindedness, claiming that killing is blameless because of their indistinctness was hardly convincing. Yu Tuan’er glanced at Fang Pingzhai, a smile playing on her lips. Clearly, his words resonated with her, and she was delighted.
OpenNovel